The Curious Case of Wearing Spandex
by MidnightAngel30
Summary: It's been six months since the fatal spider bite changed Stiles' life. For months now, he's donned the suit and watched over the city when his dad wouldn't know he was gone. So who were these new guys encroaching on his territory, and why were they like him? Minus the spandex.
1. First Meeting

Stiles' pencil tapped against his desk rapidly. _Come on, come on, come on_, he thought, his eyes narrowed at the clock, _Move a little more to the right. That's it…you can do it…_

"Señor Stilinski, are we interrupting something?" His teacher asked. Stiles never did like Spanish.

"Wha—no, no…I was just—"

_Ring. Ring._

He skyrocketed out of his seat before the teacher had a chance to hold him back.

It was the end of the day, and a Friday, no less. Children whooped and hollered through the hallway, jogging toward lockers and making out gratuitously against…okay, now that could _not_ be sanitary. How did they even _do_ that? Bodies were twisting in ways bodies shouldn't twist, and—nope, he was getting off track.

He pushed through the hoards of people, getting a few "watch where you're going, asshole" remarks on the way. They just didn't understand that he had places to be, things to do, groceries to buy. The last thing Stiles wanted was for his dad to get fast food again. Like the sheriff needed much of a reason to hit the drive-thru.

His backpack was empty, thanks to having already finished his homework for the weekend. It's not like it took long. Stiles was a grade A slack-off, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of doing the work. He normally didn't have the time, that's all. Plus, he was a senior. Teachers were slack with him and the rest of his classmates.

The sun beat down on him when the double doors swung open. He squinted, jogging down the steps two at a time. Stiles never did keep many friends, which helped him get home now. They would have only slowed him down. Friends were a liability, moochers during group projects, and…yeah, not worth his time.

Stiles hopped in his jeep, hoping the car actually started this time. When the engine roved, he pumped his fist. Success! He backed out, managing not to hit any other students on his way, and turned toward the supermarket. Eggs, milk, lettuce, and dressing not filled with creamy goodness. That's all he needed.

Yet, he came out with bags full of packaged snicker doodles, boxed chicken fried rice, and cartons of apple juice. He still had the salad and eggs, but hey, he could just hide the rest from his dad. A growing boy had to eat things not vegetarian like.

It was already getting dark when he finally came home, but the car was in the driveway. Inside, he found his dad in front of the T.V., watching the news, of course. Stiles wasn't sure his dad had the power to switch to cartoons. Too busy worrying about the safety of others to care about his own physical health or mental well being.

"Hey, dad," Stiles greeted, taking the groceries into the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon."

"No rush," the sheriff said, turning to greet his son with a small smile. "How was school?"

"Same old, same old," he shrugged.

"I know that tone. You're lucky I don't have to do parent-teacher conferences anymore."

"I do the work," Stiles huffed, unpacking food as he looked for hiding places. Sometimes he even showed up on time. "Señorita Rodriguez just doesn't like me."

"Does it have anything to do with you not paying attention in her class?"

Stiles stopped what he was doing so he could look properly appalled. "_No_. I only fell asleep in class twice. Now she won't let me forget it."

He couldn't see his dad's face from the kitchen, but he could hear the sigh. "How you keep your grades up is beyond me."

"The important thing is that I do keep them up." Stiles placed the snicker doodles behind the breadbox and continued tossing his dad's salad together.

"_In other news, the web-slinger of Beacon Hills has stopped yet another bank heist. Reports say that yesterday, the masked vigilante hung three robbers upside down from the rafters until police could reach the scene_," the Bigfoot sounding anchorman reported.

"Can you believe this guy?" The sheriff groaned from the couch. "One day, we're going to catch him."

"Isn't he helping you?" Stiles asked, listening as he absentmindedly tossed the salad. Lettuce flew everywhere, unbeknownst to him until he dared a glance.

"There are laws for a reason. The police have enough trouble trying to round up criminals. We don't need to worry about someone else trying to play hero. He will get arrested."

"I don't know, dad. He sounds kind of smart," Stiles shrugged, leaning closer toward the living room.

There was a silence that lasted forever, then "Not in that outfit."

Stiles tried not to fling salad everywhere in rage.

"We are having more than salad tonight, right?" The sheriff asked.

Stiles looked at the counter, hands on hips. Well, maybe his jeans and jacket just wouldn't cut it as a chef. "Nope. Unless you want a veggie burrito."

"Salad is fine," his dad said, a hint of disgust at the memory from when Stiles made the burritos two weeks ago.

"I'll make something more substantial tomorrow night," Stiles promised.

"We could just go out to eat," his dad suggested.

"So you can get a burger with extra everything and fries that have been sitting for over a week?" Stiles huffed, putting lettuce in a bowl for each of them, drizzling a little dressing on both. "I don't think so."

"It's not going to kill me to stray every once in a while," his dad chided.

"Yeah, well," Stiles paused, stepping back into the living room and sitting beside his dad, "I don't want you to take that chance."

The sheriff took a bowl, giving Stiles a knowing look. He wished his dad would stop giving him those looks. "I'm not going anywhere."

"As long as you keep eating the green stuff."

The two of them sat together, watching the news and talking about pointless stuff until his dad fell asleep around midnight. Long days at the office meant late nights for Stiles. He took the bowls and put them in the kitchen sink, heading upstairs quietly so as not to wake his dad. A squeaky step would be his arch nemesis right about now.

He got upstairs and walked to his room, locking the door behind him. Who knew what could be lurking the streets at this hour. He didn't want to risk missing a night and finding out about a homicide the next morning. The thought made him shiver.

Stiles opened up his closet door and grabbed the red and blue suit. He nodded a couple times, getting hyped for his night out. It was time to bust some bad guys.

* * *

The night was quiet for the most part. A slight breeze blew across Stiles' mask as he looked out over the city. The rooftops were his second home. The place he found solitude when schoolwork and worrying over his dad became too much. It helped that he got to smash some people in the face for anger management, but for the most part, he liked the silence. It meant no one was screaming.

Stiles' legs dangled over the edge, swinging to and fro like a child. Every time he heard sirens, he thought it would be something worth checking out, but nothing ever came up over the police scanner he brought. Maybe he would get lucky and not have to kung fu someone into submission.

A shrill shriek told him otherwise.

He tucked the scanner into his usual hiding corner, looking out to pinpoint exactly where the noise came from. It was a really good thing he didn't have an issue with heights. From fifteen stories up, he could see a girl in a lavender coat watching a man run away from her, purse in tow.

Without thinking, he fell from the ledge, arms spread as the wind whipped by. It wasn't until Stiles was about seven stories up when he shot the first string of web. It made contact with his target, allowing him to swing through the streets freely. He continued doing this until he was above the thief. He timed it just right so he would drop over top the mugger. He had done this plenty of times before. Nothing new.

It would have been perfect if a leather-clad bodybuilder hadn't stepped out of nowhere and took the thug down on his own. Stiles rolled when he hit the sidewalk, softening the impact. His head whipped back around to see the man throwing a one-two punch, making the mugger fall to the ground, dazed. Seriously, the hits were so quick Stiles wasn't sure he saw it right.

The man jogged back to the lavender lady to return her purse. Stiles went over to the mugger, tilting his head at the sight of the groaning man who rolled from side to side in agony. The savior for the night came back, a perma-frown across his face. The guy was rugged, short black hair and a five o'clock shadow to match. He wore jeans and a leather jacket; a white tank-top underneath barely covered his tan chest. What was this guy's deal? Didn't he know Stiles was the hero around here?

"Thanks for the help, buddy," Stiles said in a chipper tone. "Nice to have a sidekick every once in a while."

The guy's frown somehow deepened. "I'm not your sidekick."

"So you are _a_ sidekick, then?" Stiles retorted. "Because I can talk to your manager and we can work something out. They get you on weekdays, I take you on weekends."

"Are you always this appreciative after someone helps you?" The other guy grinned tightly.

"Could both of you shut up? My head is—" the guy on the ground tried saying before Stiles shot a small web across his mouth, making him mumble frantically in return.

"Dude, we were talking," Stiles said dryly.

"I was leaving," the burly man said, turning on his heel to walk down the alley closest to them.

They both listened when a loud alarm went off about two blocks down. They turned to each other, and though the guy couldn't see, Stiles was smiling.

"Race ya?" He asked.

"I'm not going to race—"

Stiles didn't hear the rest because he was already climbing up the closest building.

He did that until he was in a good range to start swinging again. He didn't want to get to the scene by foot until he knew what he was up against. He was a sniper in the night, a hero in disguise, a…

God dammit, now who was joining him?

It looked like the bearded guy again, only this time he was joined by a girl whose skin was pasty white, with black hair that reached her shoulders. Another guy in sunglasses joining the two, with short black hair that was just a little longer than bearded guy's hair. Stiles really needed some names after this. Why had he never seen them before? They looked ready to kick the whole town's ass. But not in an: _I'm-going-to-rob-a-bank _way. It was more like a: _we're-here-to-fuck-shit-up_ way.

Stiles watched them carefully as they approached the sight. The alarm was just to a small convenience store, but they looked ready for much more than that. Couldn't they just solve the problem without the theatrics?

Oh…right. He was wearing a skin-tight blue and red unitard.

To Stiles' surprise, two people walked rather nonchalantly out of the store. Twins, in fact. Both looked kind of preppy to Stiles. He could practically smell the after-shave emanating off them. He stuck his tongue out at their smug faces, only to lick the inside of his mask. Ew that tasted awful.

"We don't want any trouble, guys," one of the twins said, giving a sarcastic smirk to the group of three. Stiles stayed hidden on his perch, definitely not wanting to miss this.

"It's not like you idiots to rob a convenience store," bearded man taunted. "Did you finally get kicked out?"

"We have our reasons," the other twin said. "So, if you'll get out of the way, we'll be out of your hair."

"What did you take?" the girl asked.

"That's none of your business," the other twin said. Stiles was getting whiplash.

"We can't let you leave," sunglasses boy said.

"Fine," the twins said at the same time.

That was when Stiles realized there was more to them than biceps and identical faces.

One twin sped off in one direction, an inhuman speed that left Stiles blinking twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating from sleep deprivation. The twin only got a few feet before he abruptly stopped. The other twin hadn't moved at all.

"What are you going to do with us?" One twin smiled. "Her powers aren't fully formed yet. She won't be able to keep us here."

"But we can knock you out long enough to find what you stole," bearded man said.

"That's a big _if_," one twin said. Stiles was losing track of who said what with them.

In the blink of an eye, bearded man was fighting the one who had tried to dash off. The twin looked to be struggling, but he still managed to get a few good punches in. The other one started fighting the kid with sunglasses, twisting left and right to avoid hits. The girl stood her ground, each arm outstretched toward a twin. He couldn't see her face from where he crouched. What was she doing? Was she why the guy wasn't running circles around them?

Did Stiles help or did he let them take care of business? He could probably go find something else to do, honestly. Guys with super speed weren't in his area of expertise, and the three seemed to have a hold on this.

Of course that would be when the one twin kicked the kid with sunglasses so hard that he went flying into the girl. They both fell to the ground and the twin…shit, he _poofed_ out of existence. Gone in a cloud of smoke. He reappeared seconds later by the other twin, and then with another poof, they were both gone, the bearded guy left swinging at air.

Well that was…something.

Stiles' curiosity got the better of him. He jumped off his railing, swinging right beside the couple on the ground. They were standing up slowly when he approached, and were so startled by his entrance that they jumped in surprise. Stiles gave a small wave.

"Nice night for crime fighting," Stiles greeted.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

"A nuisance," bearded man remarked dryly.

Stiles waved his hands along his body's length. "Really? Does the suit not give it away?"

"Oh my god, you're the guy," the one with sunglasses said, the brightest smile of all smiles on his face. "The one that's always in the news."

"Yup. That's me," Stiles said with pride. He pointed to the three of them. "But who are _you_?"

"Scott," sunglasses boy smiled, extending a hand. Stiles shook it. He seemed pretty cool. "Scott McCall. This is Allison Argent, and that's Derek Hale. What's your name?"

"Uh," he paused, figuring they wouldn't be able to actually pronounce his real name. He looked around to make sure no one else was in sight. Scott seemed the trusting type, and it didn't seem fair that Stiles didn't return the favor. It would be like kicking a puppy. "Stiles. Stilinski."

"The sheriff's son?" Derek asked, his tone insinuating that he didn't quite believe Stiles.

"That's my dad," Stiles shrugged. "So what was up with all that?"

"Aidan and Ethan," Allison sighed. "We've been trying to get information out of them for months, but we haven't come close."

"Information? What kind of—" Stiles stopped, realizing he had a bigger question in mind. "What was up with the poofing and—" he stopped again, his hands moving around to demonstrate what he was trying to say, "the zooming. And you guys…do you have, you know...what they have? Can you...you know..."

"You mean can we shoot webs like you?" Scott asked, smiling. Really, did the guy ever _not_ smile? "I wish, dude. We can't do that. We _can_ do other things, though."

Scott couldn't see the face Stiles was making, but he felt it was an appropriate expression for: _please fucking continue_.

"We should go somewhere more private," Allison suggested quietly.

Scott nodded to her, turning to Stiles after. "Do you wanna come with us? We've got a place just on the edge of town. You're more than welcome to."

"Are you gonna take me to your freaky murder house where you can murder me?" Stiles asked.

"If we wanted to do that, we would have done it already," Derek huffed.

"Oh, well excuse me," Stiles said, putting both hands in the air.

"Please? It'd be cool to have you over," Scott coaxed. Dammit. How was Stiles supposed to say no to _that_?

"Fine, fine. Take me to your humble abode," he bowed, waving for them to lead the way.

"Think you can keep up with my bike?" Scott asked. He pointed to a motocross bike parked nearby.

Stiles looked him up and down. "Are you challenging me to a race?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. Then he grabbed Allison's hand and they both laughed the whole way to the bike, hopping on. "Because I'm gonna win!"

An annoyed huff came from Derek as he sauntered over to the bike parked just behind Scott's. Stiles chortled, sticking his wrist out.

"Yeah, because I have to get to the place," Stiles shot back. Next time though, it was fair game. If there was a next time, that is.

* * *

All four of them reached the house after what felt like miles, mixed with running and swinging. Once they were out of the city, Stiles had to rely on his legs and the trees mostly. Thankfully his escapades protecting the city had put him in decent shape, not that he enjoyed running any more than usual or that his form was more graceful. There was a reason he didn't join track. He hated it. Lacrosse was enough for him. It wasn't easy warming the benches. It _was_ better than having people question how his reflexes were so good though.

The place was not what Stiles had expected. At all. Like…ever. It was huge. It had to be bigger than the White House. How did anyone live like this? Stiles' house wasn't small but shit it wasn't this.

It was gated, as should be expected with a palace this size. The stones were dark brown, a black roof sheltering the massive building. The grounds were massive, going for miles. Stiles couldn't see it all from the gate, but it could fit…a lot of football fields. A lot.

"Welcome to the Institute," Scott said.

"Excuse me," Stiles deadpanned, leaning closer to make sure he heard that right.

"Not that kind," Derek mumbled, pressing a few buttons on a keypad. The gate opened and Derek was the first one to ride through, twisting and turning up the long driveway. Stiles ran across then, nodding his head proudly when he was a couple centimeters past the gate.

"I win," he said with a smile.

Scott laughed before revving off ahead of him. Damn. Did not think that one through.

Once he huffed and puffed his way to the top where Scott and Allison waited, he gave them a sarcastic grin.

"Thanks for the lift, guys. Really helpful."

"My bike only fits two," Scott shrugged. "Bug Derek for a ride next time."

"Oh because that would be so much fun," Stiles said dryly.

"That or walk," Allison grinned.

"Come on. We'll show you around," Scott said, waving for Stiles to follow.

"You still haven't told me what you can do," Stiles reminded them. Had they conveniently forgotten?

"Oh, right," Scott said, running a hand through his hair. "But you have to take the mask off."

Stiles groaned. "You promised you'd tell!"

"It's safe! I swear no one will tell your secret," Scott assured him. "You just can't tell ours."

Stiles looked around. They were out in the middle of nowhere. The chances of someone from his school being out there were slim to none when this gargantuan castle was the only thing standing. He sighed, reaching for the hem of his mask. Stiles slowly pulled it up until he could feel the breeze against his cheeks. He ran a hand through his hair a few times, his eyes darting from the ground to Scott.

"Here I am," he muttered, spreading his arms out. "Tada."

Scott grinned, putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze. Without warning, his free hand pulled the shades off. Stiles was taken aback to find a pair of red irises staring back at him.

"Nice to meet you, Stiles," Scott said, still grinning like an idiot. "I shoot lasers from my eyes. The shades just hide the discoloration, though. I promise not to fry you."

"Thanks, bro," Stiles said. He turned to Allison. "What about you?"

"Telekinesis and telepathy," she shrugged. "I don't have them mastered like I should, but I'm working on it."

"Deaton says she's got a lot of potential," Scott beamed.

Stiles looked between the two. "Are—"

Allison began waving her hands frantically. "No, no, we aren't together." Scott's eyes widened when he realized what Stiles was about to ask.

"We're just good friends," he said.

"Right. Well, that's cool." He bounced on his heels. "So—"

"I try not to. Sometimes it gets ahead of me, or other people start projecting loudly, but I can't hear anything unless I focus," Allison interjected. Stiles nodded a few times, wondering if she would actually keep her word on that.

"Could you please stop focusing, then?" Stiles asked, the words falling out in an attempt to beat her to the punch.

"Sorry," she mumbled, giving him a tiny grin. "I was curious."

"Uh huh." Stiles' eyes narrowed.

"Come on. This way," Allison said quickly, walking ahead of the two.

Stiles walked side by side with Scott, passing through the grand double doors into the luxurious school. "She really doesn't do that often," Scott whispered. "She respects our privacy."

"If you say so," Stiles muttered, looking around the foyer. Then again, she didn't think to just look through his brain when he first approached. Maybe Scott was right.

The castle—because that's what it was—had a dark wooden interior with a white ceiling. Plants were spread throughout to add some color. There were too many doors for Stiles to keep track of, a ton to each side of him. It was a real classy looking joint. The only thing was that it's castle like appearance didn't strike Stiles as being a school. There was no way people learned how to do math here.

"You guys live at the school?" Stiles asked.

"We all do," Allison answered.

"All?" Stiles only now comprehended that a school had more than three people.

"Yeah, all the kids," Allison said, giving him a funny look.

"How many people are actually here?" Stiles asked slowly, a little frightened of what the answer might be. The place could house an army.

"I lost count," Scott admitted. "It grows every year."

"I've never heard of this place." Stiles was dumbfounded as to how it had slipped past him for so long.

"It's been here for years. Deaton worked on gathering children like him until it became this. When the students finish school, they either become teachers or leave with a better sense of who they are and how to control their power," Allison explained. "I want to be a professor next year like Derek."

"He teaches?" Stiles asked in disbelief.

"He works with us in the danger room. It's the place where we practice using our powers. Deaton had to coerce him into helping us when we found him, but he's not that bad," Scott said.

"Not that bad _anymore_," Allison clarified. Stiles snorted. He couldn't imagine grumpy pants being a good teacher.

"So where are you taking me?" Stiles asked.

"The kitchen," Allison smiled. "Scott's normally hungry after we go out."

Stiles' mouth fell open. "Me too, bro!"

"We stock the fridge every night because I eat as much as half the students!" Scott smiled.

"Dude, all I had was a—"

And then they got to the kitchen. Boy, what a kitchen it was. There were stainless steel appliances, and dark wooden walls everywhere. An island the size of Hawaii and a long breakfast table as well. Bay windows that showcased a completely dark yard and oh god was that cake he saw?

"Alright! Kira baked today." Scott grinned, going for the pedestal with the wonderful looking chocolate cake.

"Who's Kira?" Stiles asked, sitting down at the bar and looking at Scott expectantly. He better have plans of sharing that cake.

"My girlfriend," he beamed. "She's pretty awesome."

"I love her already," Stiles said, smiling when Scott cut a piece and slid the plate to Stiles.

"Watch it," Scott warned playfully.

Stiles took a bite of the heavenly goodness and was so pleased to find out that Kira wasn't a terrible baker. It melted in his mouth, the gooey chocolate running down his throat. Allison poured a glass of milk and sat it down beside his plate. She took a seat beside Stiles when she finished pouring herself one.

"I feel like you're trying to bribe me into something. Is this how you got Derek to teach?" Stiles eyed them warily.

"This is just how it is," Allison said calmly, taking the plate Scott slid to her. "Except during training. We don't hold back then."

"Everyone's pretty relaxed here," Scott added, taking a seat and eating some of his cake. There was the slam of a door and the pitter-patter of feet soon after. Scott blushed. "Well…most of the time."

"Jackson! We are _not_ having sex if I have to be up early tomorrow!" A girl hissed as she made her way into the kitchen.

"Dammit, Lydia! It's been a week!" A man growled back, his voice barely above a whisper. He followed the girl, his expression seething.

The girl was short; waves of red hair cascading down her back. She had wide doe eyes and full lips that were pursed in agitation. The guy was taller than her, short blonde hair and a lean physique that Stiles was envious of. He was in nothing but boxers and she was in nothing but a blue nightie. And fuck she was breathtaking.

"Oh. We have company," she sighed, irritated.

"Who's this," Jackson asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Stiles.

Stiles gave him a blank stare. "Are the clothes really not a giveaway because I can make something more noticeable."

"Fuck you, too," Jackson retorted.

"This is Stiles," Allison introduced. "Stiles, this is Lydia, and that's Jackson."

"So you're the one everyone's talking about," Lydia said, walking over to stand beside Allison. She glided her finger along Allison's plate, taking some icing. Stiles looked away before she put that pretty finger to her lips.

"That's me. The one and only," Stiles muttered. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you two have powers as well."

"Wow. A genius, too," Jackson deadpanned, giving him a look of absolute hatred. How did one person hold so much hostility?

"At least he's not a ball of fur," Allison grinned. "Jackson can shape shift into a wolf."

"Stop making it sound like it's a bad thing," Jackson hissed.

"What about you?" Stiles asked Lydia.

"Sonic screams that could throw you across the room," she said, her tone proud, "and excellent hearing if I focus."

"Impressive," Stiles nodded. Even though he had excellent hearing, too. Not that he would ruin her boasting.

"More impressive than spider webs," she taunted, her lip curling up.

"That's what he does?" Jackson asked, sounding less than impressed.

"I could run circles around your little wolf claws, okay?" Stiles defended. Jackson was really getting on his nerves.

"Prove it," Scott said, smiling. Stiles' eyes widened. He thought Scott was on his side?!

"Come by the school tomorrow afternoon. We'll put you through some danger room obstacles, and you two can compete for bragging rights," Allison suggested.

"I can beat him. Easily," Jackson huffed.

How was Stiles supposed to say no now? His manly pride was at danger. "Uh, I'll be here at two. Prepare to lose."

"Whatever," Jackson said dryly. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and left the kitchen without even a hint of a goodbye.

"I need my sleep for tomorrow," Lydia said, sauntering toward the kitchen entrance. Stiles did his very best not to watch her walk away. "Goodnight."

"Night, Lydia," Allison said, finishing off the rest of her cake.

"As exciting as this has been, I should get home," Stiles said, standing up. "My dad and all."

"So will you be here tomorrow?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," Stiles said, "I'll be back."

"Cool," Scott nodded.

"See you tomorrow, Stiles," Allison waved, heading off in the direction Jackson and Lydia had gone.

"Thanks for everything tonight, by the way," Stiles said, offering his hand. "It wasn't the worst thing I've been through."

"Anytime," Scott said, taking Stiles' hand. "This place is home to everyone, mutant or human."

"I'll remember that," Stiles grinned, walking toward the front door. So that's what they called themselves?

Okay, so apparently he wasn't the only one with special abilities. It was a lot to take in and he thought he had handled it rather well. Was that a good thing? Was it bad? Did his father have them on radar, too, or was that just Stiles he loved to threaten unknowingly? He just didn't know.

Stiles forgot that not everyone was in bed, and didn't look up until he was running into something. Well, someone, by the sour face looking at him. Derek lifted a furry brow, eyeing Stiles up and down. He was in black sweats and a white tank top this time, his large as hell biceps showing.

Oh. He had almost forgot. "So, Derek, what's _your_ power?" There had to be a reason Deaton wanted Derek teaching. He presumed he had a cool power. His bedside manners could use a little work, though.

Derek didn't say anything, just lifted a fist close to Stiles. Abruptly, three razor sharp claws sprung out of his knuckles. Stiles had to say he wasn't expecting that.

"Bet that's useful for pumpkin carving," Stiles grinned.

Derek's two outer claws retracted, leaving the middle one up just for Stiles. Aw. How sweet.

"You have any other tricks?" Stiles asked, more serious this time.

"I heal quickly. Now weren't you leaving?" Derek mused, stepping around Stiles to walk in the opposite direction. Stiles turned around to watch him leave, wondering what in the hell that guy had stuck up his ass.

Stiles shook his head, walking outside and into the cool night air. Not quite home sweet home, but he wouldn't cross it off the list yet. Tomorrow would tell him where he stood with these guys.

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Fair warning, I'm new to writing sterek. Nice to meet you all! **

**I thought I'd give this story a go after seeing a cool manip on tumblr with Stiles as Spider-man and Derek as Wolverine. The story seems to write itself, so I'm really looking forward to this one. I hope I matched up all the other characters to a good mutant/power.  
**

**See you next update!**


	2. The Danger Room

"Stiles! It's time to get up!"

Stiles groaned. His eyelids were glued shut and he was pretty sure no one should be up at this hour. He squinted at his clock and saw that it was eleven. Ugh. Now he had to go eat breakfast and see his dad and pretend like he hadn't stayed up until four in the morning.

"Coming," he grumbled so his dad would hear from downstairs. He fell out of bed, making a large thud on impact. Even the floor was comfy. Stiles moved some of the papers that were scattered about. He was too busy to clean his room up, and thus, he slipped on notebooks more than he would like to.

He didn't bother changing out of his plaid pajama pants or red t-shirt before going downstairs. His dad was already in uniform, coffee in hand. Stiles pulled out a frying pan and retrieved a few eggs from the fridge. He could feel the sheriff's eyes on him the entire time, and Stiles wondered if he had something in his teeth.

"Stiles," his dad said.

"Mmm?" Stiles mumbled.

"You're trying to cook lettuce."

Stiles took a second look at the eggs. Oh, look at that. Lettuce.

"Everything okay?" The sheriff asked.

"I'm fine. You going to work?" He asked, scrambling the eggs.

"It's going to be a late night. Convenience store got robbed pretty badly last night. Put a guy in the hospital."

Stiles was awake now. "Oh?"

"Yeah, a broken rib and fifteen stitches."

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"He'll pull through." The sheriff checked his watch. "I have to go. See you tonight. I'll be back by around eleven. Don't get into any trouble."

"I know, dad," Stiles droned, getting some bacon out.

His dad was gone within a few seconds, and Stiles was left to himself. Once he finished cooking both the eggs and bacon, he sat down by himself, realizing that last night had been a treat. When was the last time he had gotten to sit down and eat with his dad? He slid his little bits of egg around. His mom would've done better at making them have a sit-down dinner.

He finished after about five more minutes of eating and thinking, wondering if he should wear his suit to the mansion. It was daylight and someone was bound to see him passing through. He would have to put it on underneath his clothes. He couldn't risk someone stopping him for an autograph because they so would.

He had, like, three hours to waste though. Maybe he could go sleep some more. His dad would never have to know. There were video games, extra credit work…hmm. It might be a good chance to look up more on this school. Would they even be listed?

Stiles darted upstairs, his chair spinning as he threw himself onto it. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed in…what was the name of the school? Scott said something about a guy named Deaton. Stiles put in "Deaton's Institute" to see what he got.

_No results found._

Okay, "Institute of Deaton."

_No results found._

"School for guys with knives." Hey, that rhymed.

_Did you mean: __Culinary Classes_

That had nothing to do with what he typed! Stiles groaned, putting in furiously: "School for kids with special powers."

_No results found._

"School for gifted children run by Deaton."

_What your IQ score doesn't tell you_

Stiles' eye twitched as he typed: "Deaton's School for Witchcraft and Wizardry."

_Did you mean: __Hogwarts_

"Fuck you computer." He leaned back in his chair and—

SHIT, NO, HE DIDN'T MEAN TO PRESS ENTER.

Stiles went into a spasm until he could delete all the gay porn that popped up. He sat staring at his desktop, unsure of where to continue. Outsmarted by a computer. This was a low point.

He twirled in his chair, feeling confused and lost. There was nothing on this school he visited. He felt naked. They knew who he was and he knew nothing about them in return. Surely there was nothing wrong with that. Right? They were fighting bad guys like he was. Jesus those twins looked like bad guys, too. The twins had powers. They had powers. Stiles inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly. He wasn't used to people knowing. He went from zero to five in a few hours. Had it been a mistake? It didn't really hit him that it might be until he realized there was _no information on them_. Whatsoever.

Stiles stood up and started pacing his room. He tried reminding himself that Scott was a good guy. Allison was good. Derek was eh and Lydia probably wouldn't give him a second glance ever. Jackson, oh shit, Jackson was a dick. What if Stiles pissed him off—which was bound to happen—and he threatened to tell everyone? What if Stiles ruined everything in one night that he had been working hard to maintain for three months?

He plopped down on the floor, running his hands through his hair. He hadn't felt like this since…well, a couple months ago. A crippling sense of loneliness overwhelmed him again, crushing his lungs together. Everything was going to be okay. He had no reason to worry. Stiles looked around his room, fumbling for his mask. He needed protection, his dad needed to be safe, he…

Wait. Scott said something about keeping their secret. Stiles crumpled the mask he finally found in his fingers, feeling every fabric. His dad knew people were playing hero, but he didn't know why they were. It's why Stiles hadn't heard of them before. No one knew about mutants.

It was a secret for a secret. He wasn't unarmed. Air filled his lungs and he held the mask to his forehead. He had something over them. They couldn't turn on him without repercussions.

Stiles kept his mask clung to him as he stood up. He had to get ready. There was a wolf waiting for Stiles to show him up.

* * *

The mansion didn't seem as eerie as it had the night before. It was a quarter 'til two and Stiles was hidden behind some nearby trees, not wanting to approach just yet. He looked at his mask and knew that if he was going to be the hero that whooped Jackson's ass, he needed all the help he could get. Plus, he didn't know the other students, and even knowing he had their secret in the palm of his hand didn't help him with the jitters of screwing up. He put it on, only then approaching the gate. He looked at the keypad, and then gazed up at the security camera positioned a little above the gate.

He didn't know the code.

Stiles pondered on what to do next. Was there someone he could call? It didn't seem to have an intercom, which was kind of stupid. Like, really? A school with maximum security couldn't afford an intercom?

Well, looked like he was climbing the fence. Or brick wall, in this case. It's not like he hadn't done it before. The title of vigilante wasn't something he was born with. Living with a cop meant he had to find particularly clever ways—if he did say so himself—to sneak around. Having newfound sticky fingers only helped.

He made sure his backpack was secure before climbing, stealthily trying to avoid the cameras view. He plopped down on the other side, walking across the grass like he was a student until he could make it to the winding driveway.

Stiles paused when he saw the ground open up for a…the fuck was that? Was that a laser cannon? It was. It was a large cannon rising from the ground. And then there was another beside it doing the same. Nope. Nope, he had not signed up for this.

As the gun started to point at him, Stiles made a run for it. He dodged the shots, crisscrossing and jumping all the way across the lawn. What the hell kind of school was this?! Stiles barely missed a shot that would have sizzled his thigh. It felt like forever before he reached the front courtyard. He put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. As a last "fuck you," the sprinklers started spinning and now Stiles was soaking wet to boot.

He dragged his soggy self to the front door, knocking a couple times. The door was opened before he could hit it a third time. Low and behold, Derek stood there, arms crossed, looking him up and down.

"Allison said it was you," was all he said, throwing a white towel in Stiles' face.

"Could she have told you that _before_ I was almost killed?" Stiles asked. He stepped inside and begrudgingly accepted the towel thrown at him.

"She did," he said nonchalantly, closing the door.

Stiles took a deep breath as he patted himself down.

"Why are you wearing the mask?" Derek asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm assuming you're not going to be the only one in your danger room with me and Jackson," Stiles told him.

"No one's going to tell your secret," he assured Stiles.

"Because your word means _so_ much to me," Stiles retorted.

"Look, you either believe me or you don't. None of them have a mask to hide from you though. Did you think of that?" Derek's nostrils flared. "Don't let the fame get to your head. Being on the news does not mean they feel any safer with you here."

"They have a problem with me, or you do?" Stiles threw the towel to the ground.

Derek only glared. "You need to remember that some of them don't have a home because they were kicked out," he seethed through gritted teeth. "Deaton had to persuade some of the parents to keep quiet about why their child was here. Others wouldn't say anything because they couldn't get rid of their kid fast enough. Get it? You're not the only one with secrets."

Stiles' could meet Derek's gaze anymore. Stiles knew that feeling. He was afraid his dad would respond like that everyday.

"Yeah, well, you just proved my point. The mask stays," Stiles said.

Derek huffed, looking real bitter as he stared at anything but Stiles. Before Stiles could stop him, the mask was being yanked off his head. Stiles was about to reach for it when three claws went straight through the material. Stiles' mouth opened wide as he watched three strips fall to the ground. He felt exposed again. He stared at Derek, anger swelling up in his chest and making it hard to breathe. Or was that the fear?

"There. Even playing field," Derek said, lifting both eyebrows.

"That will take time to remake," Stiles mumbled, breathing in deeply through his nose.

"Good. You can remake it, then," he said, walking off. "Follow me."

Stiles tried holding it together. He reminded himself over and over again that he had their secret, too. Which made what Derek said more right than it sounded two minutes ago. He wanted to sock him in his big ugly face for ripping his mask to shreds. He had no right!

"Why do you even care?" Stiles asked out of nowhere. "Scott told me Deaton had to coerce you into joining. Didn't sound like you were much of a team player."

"Things change," Derek said.

"Like what?"

"That's none of your concern."

"None of my _concern_?" Stiles scoffed. "You're trying to get me to be nice to your mutant army and you just ripped my mask, the only thing that I had to…you ripped it." That ended on a more somber note than he wanted.

He was beside Derek now, and out of his peripheral vision he caught the big ogre looking at him before facing ahead again. "As long as you're within these walls, you're safe."

"You've done a spectacular job of demonstrating," Stiles deadpanned.

Derek sighed. "The others are more tolerant. If you don't like it here after today, they'll still keep your secret."

Stiles stared at the ground. He really hoped they weren't like Derek or Jackson.

Derek and Stiles pulled up to an automatic door that opened as they neared. Inside was a technological haven that Stiles' eyes had never witnessed. They first entered into a control panel, but beyond the windows was a large, circular white room. He assumed it was the students standing idly down there, all dressed in black. Some looked happier than others.

"Have they finished already?" Derek asked a guy working the computers.

"Team one just beat team two. Isaac's not too happy, but I guess that's not a surprise," the guy said. He looked back at Stiles, eyeing him up and down. "Who are you?" He asked, though it was much kinder than the way Jackson had asked last night.

Stiles pulled at the collar of his shirt to present his suit. The guy's eyebrows rose to his hairline, appearing to acknowledge that as answer enough. A small smile formed.

"I'm Danny," the guy introduced, sticking his hand out.

"Stiles." He grabbed the guy's hand and shook it. "What do you do?"

"I'm good with technology and inventions. I made this room, and outfitted the whole mansion with a new security system of my doing."

Stiles nodded, looking at the screens. One showed the front lawn. He turned a suspicious eye toward Danny. If he outfitted the mansion, then…

"You saw me coming across the yard?" Stiles asked.

"I did," Danny said calmly, giving Stiles a small grin.

"And you didn't stop your superhuman cannons?"

"I wouldn't have let them hit you."

"What about the sprinklers?"

"You looked hot," Danny grinned. "By the way, what happened to your mask?"

Stiles got quiet, and Derek cleared his throat from where he stood, leaning against the controls. Danny seemed to get the idea.

"You know, your suit material looks like the synthetic fabric I own," Danny mused, studying Stiles' suit. "I could make you a replacement."

Stiles' eyes widened, shocked. "You would do that?"

"Yeah. It wouldn't be difficult."

"Oh, wow, thanks. Thank you so much." Stiles would've hugged the guy if he thought he wouldn't be scared off.

"No problem," Danny said, returning to the computers. "I probably owe you for earlier, anyway."

"Don't even worry about it," Stiles grinned, too happy that he was getting another hood. "I don't mind getting a little wet."

Danny chuckled. "You're not thinking far enough back."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked.

"I mean for thinking you were someone trying to look us up."

Stiles was confused until he remembered his earlier troubles with the computer. So he wasn't crazy! He stared at Danny with amazement.

"You were responsible for that?!"

"You're welcome for the free porn."

"My dad could have walked in."

"Mhm," Danny hummed, not looking at Stiles.

"Come on," Derek said, leading toward a set of stairs. "This way."

Stiles took his backpack off and set it down by an empty chair. After he pulled off his shirt and pants, he followed Derek down the two flights of stairs until they reached the lower level, where another automatic door waited for them. The students milled about, all looking at once when Derek and Stiles entered. He immediately picked out Scott and Allison. Lydia and Jackson were across the room making lovey-dovey eyes at each other. He quickly averted his gaze so as not to witness any more of it. The rest of the students Stiles saw were completely unfamiliar and completely intimidating.

"Hey, Stiles!" Scott greeted, waving to him as he jogged over with Allison and another girl. He presumed by the way Scott's arm had been around her that this was Kira.

"Who's the cute guy?" One—oh, crap she was hot, too. There was something in the water here. So many students could not all be so good-looking at once.

"Are you kidding me? Him?" One girl said dryly, arms crossed and glare brimmed with exhaustion. She seemed awfully…oh no.

"Cora," Derek warned. He turned to the group as a whole. "Anyone who's not Jackson, come with me."

"Good luck," Scott whispered, following the rest of the group upstairs.

Stiles nodded, bouncing on his heels. Lydia sauntered past him, giving a sly smile as she exited. Stiles gave a goofy grin before realizing Jackson was watching the entire time. He didn't look too happy.

"You're going down," he threatened.

Stiles lifted both his hands up. "Oh. Scary."

How was this even supposed to work? Jackson already had home field advantage. Were they supposed to race? Fight?

"Stiles," Danny's voice said out of thin air, "your surroundings are about to drastically change. Are you ready?"

"Uh…sure?" He shouted, shrugging.

"I'm putting you both through course thirty-seven," Danny explained.

"I've never even heard of that one," Jackson yelled back, glaring at the control panel window.

"That's the point," Danny said matter-of-factly. "Get ready. First to capture the flag is the winner."

Stiles curled his fingers, preparing for whatever would show its face. He gave Jackson a crooked smile, eliciting an eye roll from his opponent. Well, so much for shaking hands.

It was a shock when the white walls began to digitize into something entirely different. The doors disappeared, and Stiles was somehow transported to another place. It was dark, but not so much that Stiles couldn't see the rocks ahead of him. He was in some sort canyon. Jackson wasn't in sight anymore, and was now separated by a large rock wall that rose from the ground before Stiles' eyes. He looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky. This was…amazing. The land was vast and it was all the danger room? That didn't…but how?

A large, transparent set of numbers appeared above Stiles, starting at five. It began counting down, and Stiles felt his heart drop. Where in the hell was the flag?! The numbers turned to letters that screamed at him to go. He ran, knowing that was all he could do. Keep going forward and see where that took him.

Stiles ran through an opening, only to emerge at the edge of a cliff. Oh, that was great. He looked around, not seeing any other paths. There was a small ledge to his left, but he would have to sidle to the other side. As fun as that sounded, he opted for a web bridge. He shot three webs across the opening, making sure it was secure on his end before testing it. As he thought, it held up, and he lightly pressed a foot against it. When it didn't give, he put his whole body upon it. He moved slowly at first, gaining speed as his confidence grew.

He tried not to look down, but he couldn't help his eyes from looking at the river far below him. This room was trippy. How it achieved that kind of drop in a room where he was originally on the ground perplexed him.

Once he reached the other side, he sped off around the corner, jumping over rocks and avoiding dust as he kicked it up without trying. Just below him on another ledge, he thought he saw the wind blowing sand everywhere, except the sand somehow formed shapes. An uneasy feeling washed over Stiles as he kept moving forward.

This was one great Easter egg hunt as Stiles searched and searched for whatever the flag was. What if Jackson was close? It had only been…huh, he didn't know how long it had been. There was no clock in…nope; there was definitely a clock. The same type of transparent numbers floated in the sky just above Stiles. It had been ten minutes.

No matter what direction he looked, he saw no flag. Then again, he wasn't at the very top. Which is why he immediately started climbing the closest rock wall. If he was going to find this flag, he had to see everything.

Stiles felt the wind rush against his back, and then a sudden scratch across his thigh. He hissed, looking around and trying to figure out what had cut him. His back wasn't to the rock so what the hell was it?

When nothing struck him as out of the ordinary, he continued climbing, albeit a bit faster than before. The wind whipped by again, this time cutting him across the back. Not fair! He couldn't avoid the wind; there was no way to fight it. Stiles continued climbing, pulling himself up over the ledge in one great heave. He took a few deep breaths, his cuts beginning to sting. This was just the best.

He looked around the flat mountaintops and saw absolutely nothing. Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, looking every which way for some kind of sign. Where in the hell was Jackson at, too? He put his stomach to the ground and peered over the edge, hoping not to be spotted by Jackson if he were to look up.

Stiles didn't spot him. Maybe he was stuck in a cavern maze or something. That would be nice.

Just to his left, he heard the wind starting up again. He looked over to see the dust demons rising up again, and yeah, they had dust spears. Well that was just what he needed.

Jolting upright, he made a quick dash in the opposite direction. He didn't know where he was running to, he just knew he had to get away from them. Stiles saw a crack in the rock ahead that was just big enough for his body to fit through. He put the pedal to the metal and sprinted as fast as he could.

He could feel the wind lick at his heel just as he jumped feet first into the crevice. His body stuck between the walls after he went about 10 feet. His feet were pushed to the wall and his back was against the other side. Yeah, his body would be bruised after that. Stiles maneuvered his body until he was able to get both hands and feet on either side. It wasn't easy, and it was a tight fit to the point where he couldn't extend any body part fully.

There was a ledge just outside the crack in the wall, and Stiles had his eyes set on it. He slipped himself closer to it, stopping when he was just a jump away from being out in the open air again. He still couldn't see the damn flag. It was too dark.

The rush of the water below made him think though. Could he jump into it? Would the program go on the fritz or was that allowed? There weren't any rocks at the bottom from what he could see. Just clear water. He didn't know how much longer he could run over rock until he saw a glimmer of hope. The clock said he had been there forty minutes already. He was gonna do it. He was going to jump.

Stiles leapt onto the ledge, falling to one knee to soften the blow. He looked around for something to stick his web to. There was an arched rock that had just enough space for him to swing down to the river.

He backed up, gathering what nerve he had. Without thinking on it more, he ran toward the edge, shooting a web out toward the rock. It hit, and he felt himself falling. Stiles swung farther and farther down, trying his best not to shout in case Jackson was in the vicinity. He didn't do all this work just to have him come and take the prize.

When he was near the water, he let go of the web, flipping until he was diving headfirst. The water splashed all around him as he was engulfed by the waves. It was fucking freezing! He popped up, gasping for air as he was taken wherever the river headed. Taking a deep breath, he reentered, looking around for some sort of flag. There was nothing.

Shit.

He resurfaced, looking around. How was this all in one room again? Was he in his head, passed out cold on the danger room floor? He shot a web out toward the closet ledge to keep from going any further down stream. He had to be missing something.

Stiles swam to the narrow ledge nearby, holding on with his hands as he moved up stream. The water beat against his midsection as he inched across. Dammit this hurt. He pushed onward, stopping when he reached a rocky slope. Stiles crawled until he was far from the water, wincing as his knees hit the rocks.

He looked up just in time to see fur in a human shape run by, sniffing through the air as it made its way across the canyon tops. So that's what Jackson looked like all wolfed out.

Where was Stiles not looking? Had he missed a spot underwater? He sighed, standing up. There was only one way to find out. Very carefully, he walked down the slope, attempting not to fall in. The water was clear, which made it easier to see down to the bottom. It wasn't very deep either, but thankfully it had been enough to keep Stiles from breaking his neck.

As if the heavens had shined light down upon him and the angel choir sang, Stiles saw a red flag.

It was wedged between two rocks, and waiting for him to snap it out. In his excitement, he jumped in, shooting a web out to keep from being taken away. He wished the elements hadn't been amped up in an attempt to get him to fail. Like finding this thing wasn't hard enough.

Taking one last breath of air, he dove down and began swimming toward the other side. Once there, he used the indentions underwater to help get him to the flag. He could feel his muscles shaking, but he knew he had to keep going. All he had to do was grab it. That's all.

Almost there…

His fingers reached out, wiggling until he was able to pull the flag out. Air started to escape as he groaned, but he had it. It was in his hand and he gripped it as tight as he could.

He could vaguely hear a buzzer go off, then. Without warning, everything around him started to blur and fade away until he was back in the white walled danger room, a weird sensation passing through him. Excess water fell to the ground and he gasped for air. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest out of nowhere.

Stiles looked over to his left to see Jackson in his wolf form, splayed out on his back. That must have been a doozy of a fall. There was no other way to explain his position.

"Congratulations, Stiles," Danny said over the intercom.

The doors that lead to the control room opened and Scott came running down with Allison over to him. Lydia strutted toward Jackson, in no hurry at all.

"Dude, that was so badass," Scott beamed.

"You could see? How, how, how could you? What was all that?" Stiles rambled.

"Holograms," Allison answered.

"That water did not feel like a hologram," Stiles gasped, getting off his hands and knees to stand up.

"Welcome to the future," Allison laughed. "Now let's go see what we can do about your injuries."

Stiles nodded, following Allison out the door as Scott stayed beside him, making sure he could walk a straight line.

He got a pat on the back from everyone else in the control room. All he wanted to do was grab his stuff and get out of there, but they were all determined to say how awesome he did. Who was he to stop them, really?

After a couple minutes of listening to praise, Stiles felt properly good about his work and willingly followed Allison, Scott, and Kira, who had joined them after the onslaught of attention.

"You did really good, Stiles. I thought Jackson was going to catch up in the last ten minutes," Kira said, smiling as much as Scott did. Seriously, those two were rays of sunshine.

"Thanks," he said. "So, what is it you do?"

"I can store electromagnetic energy and manipulate it," she grinned.

"Oh." Was that all?

"This way. The infirmary is just around the corner," Allison told him.

They made a right and walked up to a set of double doors, which opened when they neared. Inside were four beds, and an array of medical instruments. Stiles forgot how much he hated hospitals.

"Take a seat. I'm not Lydia, but I can patch you up I think," Allison said with a grin.

Stiles hopped up onto the closest bed, peeling his wet suit off the top half of him. Every part of him hurt, and he could already see blue and purple spots forming. Scott handed him a towel that he patted across his face thoroughly. "You inspire confidence."

"I _can_ patch you up. Better?"

"I suppose." He wiped the towel across his arms and relaxed a little. He was in the infirmary, sure, but he wasn't in the simulation anymore. That had to count for something.

"Turn over and lay on your stomach," Allison instructed.

Stiles did as he was told, crossing his arms together and resting his head on them. He tried not to wince at the pain. Scott walked around the table so he was kneeling and could be face-to-face with Stiles.

"What you did back there was awesome, man," Scott said. "Jackson looked so pissed."

"Why are you so nice to me?" Stiles asked, changing topics without warning. "Why all this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you just met me and you're treating me like I'm part of the family."

Scott smiled. "Everyone's family here."

"The only thing you know about me is what you've seen on the news," Stiles whispered, cringing when Allison touched the spot on his thigh briefly. "Are you being nice to me because of me or because of what I can do?"

Scott looked like Stiles had kicked him in the stomach. "Oh…man, I had no idea. I'm so sorry. If you want me to back off I can, I just didn't want you to feel like you were alone."

Stiles forgot that Allison had moved to his lower back until he felt the tiniest bit of pressure. "Really?"

"All of us have felt loneliness because of our powers for one reason or another. I didn't want you to think it would be like that. You don't have to be the vigilante here, and you don't have to hide your powers either. You can be you, and that's okay."

Wow, that almost brought a tear to Stiles' eye. Scott was more compassionate than he ever imagined someone else could be besides his dad. He gave a quick nod, licking his lips. His throat was suddenly dry and he didn't know how to respond.

"Thanks," was all he could muster.

They sat in silence for a while so Allison could attend to his injuries. For the first time since he had gotten there, he felt at ease. He didn't have to be a hero. He didn't have to hide who he was. He could be Stiles. Even if it was just around the people currently in the infirmary, that was a step up.

"Have you ever thought about coming to school here?" Kira asked.

"I don't think my dad would understand why I want to switch schools midway through senior year."

"We could figure something out if you really wanted to transfer," Scott said. "We've done it before."

Stiles nodded. He didn't know how that would work out, but he guessed it was worth taking into consideration. "I'll think about it."

"All finished," Allison said. "Try not to bother the stitches too much."

"You had to put in stitches?"

"Your wounds were deeper than I thought, but they're fixed now."

Stiles carefully sat up, feeling the numbness around the gashes. The bandages stuck against the stitches. At least they were in places his dad wouldn't ask questions. The last time he came home with a big bruise, his dad wouldn't leave him alone until it was time for bed and Stiles insisted he leave.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Scott asked.

"Uh, sure." His dad wouldn't be back until eleven. He had time. "What are you having?"

"Burgers. We're grilling out tonight."

"Sweet," Stiles chuckled, "I'm in."

Scott and Kira gave him a hand up to make sure he didn't rub his stiches or bother the bruises on him. All three turned around long enough for Stiles to properly change out of his suit and into more comfortable clothes. He would have to patch up the cuts in his suit that the scratches had made. All in all, not too much damage he couldn't fix.

Stiles looked around the small group as they made their way upstairs after that. He had finally made a decision on where he stood with them. He decided they were worth a shot.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys liked the chapter!**


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